Reaching Out
by 23Sammy
Summary: "I wake up and reach out a hand to touch you, to make sure you are okay, to remind myself that you are alive. But you are not there and I choke on this fear that you are not there because you are dead." H/N, post "Bloodlines"


_Author's Note: ____Never wanted to write fan fiction again, but here we are. First story in five years, my English still hasn't improved and I am really nervous about uploading this. So I hope you like it On another note: I d__on't own anything, belongs all to the BBC. Which is a good thing. Really. _

His breath is even and steady and every time he exhales, a small steamy patch appears on the inside of the window. On the outside rain is blurring the light from the street-lamp. It's only a few steps away from the car and the only source of light nearby. The building beyond the car-park is hidden behind darkness and rain. Invisible. Out of reach. As if it didn't exist at all.

Nikki, of course, knows it is there, the whole world is, but right now her whole universe is somehow contained within the confines of this car. Beyond it, there is nothing. Inside it, there is everything. Good and bad.

She shivers a little, because the cold is slowly creeping through the metal and glass around her. She leans back in the driver-seat and turns her head to look at Harry again. Not directly though, her eyes are drawn to his reflection in the window.

The shadows under his eyes look deeper in the glass, his pale skin translucent, as if he was about to vanish into nothingness. The cut on his brow has almost healed, yet in the window she can see a dark shadow on his forehead. When she sees his shadowy self crying, silent tears of rain sliding down the reflection of his cheek in the window, the sight becomes too much to bear.

She quickly turns away from him and looks out of the window.

Harry had fallen asleep the minute they were on the road. That was over an hour ago. The drive back from the crime-scene had taken only forty minutes, but when Nikki had switched off the engine in the car-park, she had not had the heart to wake him just yet. So for the past twenty minutes she had been watching him sleep, her eyes following the rise and fall of his chest, while the rain pattered on the roof of the car, while other cars came and went, while light after light was switched off in the building beyond.

Now, twenty minutes later, Nikki still does not notice the rain or the people getting home from work. Or her phone vibrating on the back seat. When she finally does and reaches for it, it is too late. The phone is motionless once again.

She always switches the phone into silent mode now when Harry is with her in the car, knowing that he will eventually fall asleep and not wanting the annoying ring-tone – the one she always wanted to change but never did – to wake him. It has been like this for the better part of a month now.

Almost a month.

Nikki closes her eyes, the memories of the events in Hungary are still there, fresh, raw, like it happened only hours, instead of weeks ago. With the memories, the fear floods back in. Her eyes snap open, her head turns back towards Harry. He is still sleeping, his head resting against the window. Her fear ebbs away.

For now.

Nikki scolds herself for being this weak, for needing to check he is still there every five minutes. Of course he is there, where else would he be?

_Gone. Lost. Dead._

Not so long ago that was the reality. Her reality. In a way it still is.

She grips the steering-wheel with both hands to steady her feelings and willing her thoughts to travel down a different road. She needs to be stronger. For him. He insists he is fine, but she knows better.

What she is not entirely sure of, is what part of the nightmare he's been through keeps him trapped in the darkness. The loss of Anna and the baby? The things that were done to him? The things he had done to survive? Knowing him as well as she does, she suspects the latter might be the thing that is haunting him the most, but for the first time in years she cannot read him properly. It makes her feel even more helpless.

And alone.

So all she can do is take care of the little things. Pretending not to be hungry anymore half way through a sandwich and dump the other half on his desk, just to make sure he eats. Annoying him when he is silent for too long, just to make sure he snaps out of his dark thoughts. Pretending to have paperwork to do, while he struggles through his report, just to keep him company. Or deliberately taking longer routes to wherever it was they were going, to give him a chance to sleep. And most important of all: Not letting him see how worried and freaked out she really is, not letting him realise that she hasn't had a proper nights' sleep, too, ever since her phone rang on that fateful day. The day she was told that Harry Cunningham was dead.

Suddenly all she wants to do is sleep.

"There's this thing called the ignition, you know. You turn the key and the motor starts and only when that happens the car is ready to move. Then you may grab the wheel and turn it", a deep voice mumbles from somewhere behind the silence and the exhaustion.

"You really might want to try it, because if you don't start driving soon, we will never get back home in time for dinner."

She lets go of the steering-wheel and turns to face him. His look is fuzzy and blinking into the darkness, he slowly starts to detach his forehead from the cold glass. He rubs his neck with a groan and yawns. Then he blinks himself fully awake and looks out of the window.

They are in the car-park.

"Oh", he simply says. "How long was I out?"

"Almost an hour."

"Sorry", he mumbles and moves a hand through his dark hair.

"I am really boring company at the moment."

"Actually it's kind of nice to have a quiet journey without you asking if we are there yet every five seconds or questioning my ability to drive."

He snorts and rubs his eyes. "If it takes you an hour to get here, than that question is a valid one and your driving-skills do deserve some sort of sarcastic commentary."

He wraps his arms around himself. "Is it me or is it cold in here?"

"It is kind of cold", Nikki says and pats his knee.

"Come on, we should get going."

She pulls her hand away and is about to open the car door, when Harry's hand on her arm stops her. She turns back at him, a questioning look on her face. She can see the same expression mirrored in his.

"How long have we been here?", he asks slowly.

She opts for truth. "About 20 minutes." She shrugs and gives him a smile. "I didn't want to wake you. You needed a bit of sleep."

He shakes his head, sighing impatiently, his voice clearly communication mild annoyance. "You should have woken me up. I am fine. No need to worry."

"You are not. And I do."

"I'm fine. Don't."

"No."

"Yes."

They have had the long version of this conversation a dozen times already, so that by now they were down to the essence of things. But somehow it still feels to Nikki every time like they'd argued for hours. And she is too tired and cold and exhausted to argue anymore.

"Whatever", she shrugs and reaches for the door again. His hand stops her again.

She lets go of the door-handle and turns to face him and whatever he has to say. Silence descends and he knows he should say something now, maybe make a joke, a complaint, a comment, whatever. But he is too tired to talk, too tired to think. His hand drops in defeat from her arm.

"We should get going", Nikki repeats, but does not move. Neither does he.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"Lets go. Leo's waiting. We're late."

"And who's fault is that?", he mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

He'd meant it as a tease, as a last effort to lighten up the mood, but it comes out all wrong, tense and sharp and serious.

_God, he doesn't even know how to joke properly any more. Sleep deprivation is apparently very bad for your sense of humour._

He is about to try again, when the universe inside the car collapses into a black hole.

"You bloody bastard! You stupid, stupid idiot! I am doing this for you! You think it is fun sitting out here in the dark and cold worrying about you?"

Nikki's fist hits his arm and she is yelling at him, her whole body shaking with rage.

"I didn't ask you to do this!", he replies defensively and raises his hands.

"Of course not! You don't need any help, you're fine! How could I forget? Stupid me!", she spats angrily and glares at him.

"Now wait a minute.." Harry feels his anger rising, his glare and voice matching the intensity of her outburst easily.

"No Harry, I have waited enough tonight. I will get out of this car, dump the evidence in the lab and go home. Since you are _so_ okay and obviously have slept enough, I am sure you won't mind working tonight instead of me. Thanks."

His left hand slams down on the dashboard hard, the action venting some of the fury that starts burning in him.

"The hell I won't. That is going to take all night, the state that body and all the other evidence is in. That was *some* violent death. And tired or not, this is nothing either of us can handle alone!"

He gets rid of the seat-belt, feeling suddenly trapped and once he is free, throws his hands up in the air, turning towards her.

"Oh I get it"", he laughs a short bitter laugh. "You let me sleep, so I'll be the one less knackered and you can get out of this. Great excuse. Probably got a date lined up for later. Very nice, Nikki. This is bloody unfair!"

His accusation hurts like hell and Nikki hits the steering-wheel hard, the physical pain a welcome distraction from the emotional blow she'd just been dealt. She hisses at him, her words lashing out at him, venomous and impatient.

"Well, tired or not, people kill, people die and we deal with the consequences. So you think this isn't fair? Sorry to break it to you, Harry: _Life isn't fair. _Big deal. Get used to it."

All colour drains from his face as he stares at her first in shock, then in pain, then in blazing anger. But his voice is quiet and icy when he replies.

"Believe. me. if. anyone. knows. that. it's. me."

She blinks in horror, as her brain finally manages to catch the subtext of her words. She had of course referred to their work, to the body that was by now probably already in the building behind her. Not to the death of Anna. Not to the fight for his life, that had ended with a dead man burning in the night. But Harry must have thought she had.

_Oh god._

Her lips quiver and her body starts shaking, as she tries desperately to find the words to make this right again.

"Harry… I… "

She can barely see his face in the gloomy light shining into the car, but she can see his eyes. They are dark with emotion. Pain. Hurt. Rage. And something else she can't place, but nevertheless it is precisely *that* feeling that she cannot bear to face.

With one swift move she is out of the car, slamming the door shut. The rain and the cold take her breath away for a second and it feels good. Cold she can deal with. Rain she can deal with. Darkness she can deal with. What she'd just said to Harry she can not deal with.

Seconds, minutes, hours later – she is not really sure about the concept of time anymore -she hears the other car door close softly and closes her eyes, not turning round. She hopes he will just storm off and after what she just said, she is pretty sure, that he will. The rain splashes down on her face and she is glad for it, because even if Harry is still here, he will not be able to see that most of the wet substance on her face are actually tears.

The anger is gone now and all she feels is shame. Utter shame for being this weak, this tired, this frightened. He is the one who is suffering, he is the one grieving. She is supposed to help him heal, not make it worse.

_Oh god. Why am I so bloody weak and useless?_

Nikki almost chokes on the sob that rises from her soul, her body shaking under the intensity of the desperation she feels. She screws her eyes shut, but does not move, just stands there in the rain crying, alone in the world with no one to turn to and convinced she deserves nothing less than that.

It takes her almost a minute to realise that a hand is gently touching her arm and almost another minute to find the courage to lift her head and face him. She is not sure if she can handle his anger, but she knows that she needs to deal with whatever is coming now.

"Why did you say that?"

His hand drops from her arm. She lowers her head again, quickly.

"Nikki?"

Why isn't he yelling at her? Why isn't his hand grabbing her arm, forcing her to look at him? Why is he still here? She looks up at him finally and is a little taken aback by how close he is standing in front of her. She hadn't noticed him stepping into her personal space, but maybe that was because they shared one anyway all the time.

There is no anger now in his face or in his eyes. Just a mixture between bewilderment and concern. And pain. She holds his gaze until a fresh wave of tears blurs her vision and she has to blink.

"I don't know. I am sorry, Harry.. I didn't mean it the way it sounded.. I wasn't thinking… I don't know…" After a short break forced onto her by another heavy sob, she continues weakly: "I am supposed to help you through this, not make it worse."

He always makes it better. When she is upset. Or angry. Or hurt. He always manages to make it better. Why can't she do it for him, then? She stamps her foot like an angry child.

"Why am I so bloody useless?" Her hands clench into fists. "So bloody weak and tired and a total waste of space!"

"Nikki, you are not. Stop it."

"Why? It's true, isn't it? You always help me heal. You always know what to do. I don't and I don't understand why I don't and I want so much to help you, but I don't know how and I am so angry with myself, because I waste so much of my energy on feeling scared and hurt and guilty that I don't have enough left to try harder… and…"

It all bursts out of her, her words rushing, stumbling, almost indistinguishably through her tears. But he understands them. And he finally understands her. But he has no clue how to convince her, that none of this is her fault. It's his. He locked her out. Instinctively at first, when things were still too raw for him to process, unconsciously later, when he just wanted to forget it all and intentionally at the end, when he was too frightened that he would not be able to re-connect with her, that the bond they had shared before had been damaged beyond repair, the moment he'd pushed her away.

Nikki is still sobbing, the drizzle slowly working its way through her clothes, her hair wet, her body shaking with tears and cold. It almost breaks Harry's heart.

_This has to end. Now._

So he reaches out, slowly and a little hesitant, but continues the movement until his hands close around hers. It feels strange and unreal only for the fracture of a second, then he feels a familiar warmth racing through his hands, up his arms and spreading through his entire body and for the first time in weeks he actually feels something good. He wants to tell her that, but his thoughts and feelings are too random and messy to put into words. So for now he simply squeezes her hands.

Nikki feels his hands closing around hers and when his hold on her tightens gently a moment later, she looks up.

And into a familiar face.

That of Dr. Harry Cunningham, best friend, lousy joker, brilliant scientist, handsome bloke and simply wonderful passionate human being.

A face she can finally read again clearly.

_Concern. Guilt. Pain. Fear. And more guilt. Much more of that._

And she suddenly knows he will tell her all about it. Just not now. Now his look shifts and tells her that he wants *her* to talk. So she does. Without wanting to, without meaning to, just because he looks at her like that.

"I… don't sleep much either, you know. I fall asleep exhausted and then I wake up again and I reach out a hand to touch you, to make sure, you are okay, to remind myself that you are alive. But you are not there and I choke on this fear that you are not there because you are dead."

He lets go of her hands and she laughs, a short, bitter laugh, that turns into another sob.

"How stupid is that? Of course you are not there! You are asleep in your own bed. And eventually I am awake enough to realise."

She casts her eyes down and suddenly her voice is not more than a whisper.

"But for that one moment between reaching out and waking, I am, I am…"

The tears are back and she hides her face in her hands, not wanting him to see her this weak any more, not wanting him to get angry at her again, because, lets face it, he had been through a lot more than she had. She had thought him lost, but got him back. Big deal that. She braces herself for his anger, but it does not come. Instead she feels his hands gently closing on her wrists and pushing her hands down.

"You are?"

"Lost. Alone. Mad with fear. God, Harry, I am sorry.. I… I cannot shake this fear…"

And then she is in his arms, Harry pulling her into a tight embrace with something between a sob and a sigh and moan. He protectively wraps his arms around her, presses a soft kiss into her wet hair, then another one. When she slides her arms around his waist, he starts stroking her back with one hand. Her eyes are shut, her head coming to rest on his chest. She listens to his steady heartbeat, feels, actually feels his chest rising and falling beneath her, feels the warmth of his skin, smells through the rain and the wet pavement the scent that simply is Harry and her sobs subside and she is finally still.

"We'll be okay, Nikki. We'll both be okay", he whispers, holding her close. "You will never have to feel like this again." To seal this promise, he presses another kiss into her hair.

He moves a little back, just enough so he can look at her face. Her beautiful face, so full of sorrow and pain right now, that it hurts him almost physically. With one hand he brushes away the rain and the tears from her cheek and feels her leaning into his touch.

"Never again. I promise."

She wants to believe him, but knows better. The next night is almost here and in just two or three hours the fear will return. Nothing he can say will change that. She doesn't want to argue, not now when they are finally here.

Together. And healing.

But she needs to tell him anyway, so she puts her doubts in a question.

"How can you be so sure of that?"

Before he answers, he pulls her close and lowers his head until their foreheads touch, then nudges her nose with his tenderly. Harry rubs his cheek against hers in a gesture so tender and gentle that Nikki feels almost faint, as fear and loneliness melt into pure bliss, a feeling so long absent that it takes her a moment to adjust to and identify it. With a sigh Nikki closes her eyes and wraps her arms round his neck. She feels Harry's arms tightening around her, pulling her as close as he can. They stay wrapped up in each other for a long time.

Touching, breathing, feeling, healing.

Then Harry's lips brush the sensitive skin below her left ear and while she tries to adjust to yet another surprising sensation - one, that she'd craved for for years, but never thought she'd get to feel - she almost misses his answer, when he finally whispers into her ear, his voice steady and warm and reassuring.

"Because from tonight on, when you reach out for me, I will be there. Right next to you."


End file.
